Secrets, Lies, and So Much More
by causeiloveslimshady
Summary: My life has never been the same since my mother divorced my father, for abuse, ironically. Somehow, he got me instead of my mother, and now I'm his little toy until I reach the magic age- 18. FAX, NIGGY, IggyxOOC
1. Chapter 1

-flashback-

I quietly clicked the door shut, trying not to make a peep as my father stormed down the stairs. "Maximum, your late," he said with a smile. I knew where this was going, and I knew if I just took it without a word, he might not do his personal worst. Before I could comprehend what was happening, the words stumbled out of my mouth, across my lips, mentally slapping myself.

"Sorry, I was running late because Mr Belo-" He cut me off, his eyes daring me to make a move, utter another sound. "Maximum, I'm done with your excuses. Come to me, pretty girl," his hot breath reeked of alcohol, beer to be precise. Before I could say a thing, he grabbed my upper arm and threw me to the floor. "What were you doing, you stupid fool? Bringing shame to this family, am I not right? Deceiving everyone? Making them think I was the big bad wolf in this story?Oh, little Maxy, you are so wrong, it's you, your the horrible one in this duo, your the one who drives me to drink! Your the reason for my pain, sweet Sarah," I knew he was drunk – he always was, no matter what. The only times I've caught him trying not to look like he's downed 5 beers is at work. He worked at no other place than the New York Police Department, better known as NYPD. He knew that if I filed a claim of child abuse against him, he'd erase all files of it. Nobody would know but him, and I'd get my punishment soon enough, proving the claims. The only thing I was thankful for from Jeb was that he bought me concealer – something I'd need a lot of to cover the bruises. That, and scar cream, saved my life, literally. I didn't want or need anyone thinking I was being abused. His foot came in contact with the right section of my ribcage, leaving no time to defend myself, or get into a curled-up position. I gasped. The single blow has knocked the wind out of me, so I couldn't say a word for my life. Ironic, huh. Another blow came to the ribs, bringing me to yet again a state of not being able to breathe. He got on his knees and punched down on my back left shoulder blade, hard. I cringed, glad my breath was back. One, two, three blows came to the small of my back. His ever-so-handy pocketknife slid out of his pocket and his smiled, pulling up the blade I knew he sharpened daily. He slowly pulled up the back

of my shirt. I knew the worst was coming. First, he slowly dragged the knife up across the previous scars, not yet letting the knife slip across my back and watch the blood fall. The knife traced lines across my back, changing patterns as he traced scar to scar. I could practically see the smile on his face as he pushed down a tiny but further on the knife, right above my neckline, right in the middle. The knife flew across my back, going from there to the bottom left, then to the right. As the blood fell, he made a tiny X above my left hip. "Careful, Maxy, you could get hurt," he chuckled drunkenly as he strode out of the room.

-end flashback-

I woke up, my eyes unfocused. My legs were tangled in what I called my blanket - pieces of cloth and old clothing of mine, sewn together when I couldn't bear sleeping in the cold weather in my treehouse. I grabbed the nearest clothing, which happened to be a pale green shirt and destroyed denim capris, perfect for the fall weather.

I grabbed my school supplies - a new purple binder, a black folder, and three notepads, green, navy blue, and black. I packed them into the tote bag I'd had for years, a black one with long thin handles that said "Love is the Movement." (**AN: I'm describing my sister's backpack.)**I slowly trudged to school, no breakfast.

Today, of all days, was the one where I forgot my lifesaver - the concealer to hide the bruises.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Wow, haha. Only one chapter, and I got 3 favorites and a review! :) Thanks you guys, since this is my first story and all. I'm really glad. I woke up this morning (so early for winter break!) and checked my Hotmail, and I was ready to jump up on my bed and do a little dance! Of course, I texted my sister dear to let her know this, cause I'm nerdy and stuff. :D Also (why am I making so many spelling mistakes?) in the first chapter, Jeb called Max 'Sarah.' This is because I was going to make the main character an OC, but I decided not to, so Maximum she became, but I forgot to send this to someone to revise it, so that never got changed. Sorry!

Disclaimer : I don't even get an allowance (FML), how could I own Maximum Ride? It's not like she's a prostitute and I can buy her or anything. (I create awkward moments? Yes, I know.)

ONWARDS WITH THE STORY!

As I walked to school, I realized something was wrong. Did I have my shirt on backwards? Was there an embarassing stain on my pants? I looked down and checked. Nope, no large bruises showing. That left one part of my body to be the reason. My face. I slowly brought my hand to it and realized two things. First, my face was covered in bruises, and second, I had nothing on to cover those bruises. My whole body tensed and I came to know I had to two options, that I could run back home, grab the concealer, dodge to the bathrooms, put it on, and be late, or I could just make up a story and prepare for the next beating that was sure to come tonight. I had to tough it out, I thought to myself. No cover-up today. Okay, what story could it be? I thought hard. I'll just say I got in a fight, that happens a lot around here. My story was done, short and (bitter)sweet. I let my hair cover my face, and I fast-walked to school, not wanting to be late. I dodged into my classroom. Room 204 (AN: This is my room number at my school. For homeroom, anyway.), Mr. Belavore's room. Mr. Belavore was my favorite teacher. We had no strict classroom regulations or rules, and his room was the safest at the school. If you were in danger, you could go up to the back of the room, and put a note in his brown bag. At Mr. Belavore's room, we had the back wall covered in brown-bags, with every single junior that came across his room's name on it. If you saw Rebekah VanWicks got a new haircut, and you liked it, you could drop a note saying that you were a fan of her new hairstyle. Anonymous compliments always meant a lot to me, in the fact that someone took the time to find your name, write the note, and put it in. (Disclaimer: This idea goes to the writer of 13 Reasons Why. The notes in the brown-bags are NOT my idea whatsoever, credit to him!) I smiled a little as I walked into the room. His room felt safe.

"Hi," I called, seeing Mr. Belavore was tidying up his desk. He glanced up, his eyes concerned, as he saw my bruises.

"Maxine! What happened?" His eyes never left mine, checking them for lies.

"I got in a fight," I said, trying to brush it off. He looked at me once again, and his face softened. I wasn't a bad student, and he believed everyone had an equal chance to be successful.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"What? Yeah. I'm fine," I replied, trying again to brush it off. He caught the hint and gave me one more look before returning to his desk. He knew I was lying, it wasn't a fight, but I wasn't going to give in. This secret was too large for anyone to know. I didn't know who I could trust.

(Have I ever told you how delicious bubble-gum flavored gum is? Mmm..)

By now, other students had filed into the room, checking their brown-bags for any surprises. I sighed slightly, and walked up to the wall, snatched up the bag that said "Maximum Ride" and shook it slightly, listening for the fumbling of notes. I had not one, but two notes. I smiled a little. What's in there? I slowly put my hand in the bag, feeling as if my hand had the weight of the world on it. I picked up the first one, a simple piece of college-ruled notebook paper, folded up into..a paper football? What? The note, written in definite boy's handwriting, said only eleven words:

"All hail the heartbreaker."

What was this supposed to mean? Is this a joke? I hate people like this, and their fortune-cookie like ways. At the bottom, written in small letters, were seven more:

"Meet me at the park at six."

My mind determined, I was going to dodge Jeb's beating, and meet this stranger at the park.

So, what do you think of the little surprise note?

Max didn't open the other note..what do you think it said? :]

I'm going to need 5-10 names, so post yours, or your favorite name in a review.

When Max was talking to Mr. Belavore, she reminded me of the little girl in the music

video for "Concrete Angel" by Martina McBride. I'll try to post another chapter of this mystery

note this evening (it's 10:23 am right now), so heads-up! :) Review, please. I'd like to hear

your 2 cents.(:s


	3. Chapter 3

As the school day droned on, I became more and more anxious to meet this stranger. They had to be a junior, because who else would drop in a note? I was mostly sure it was a guy, due to the bad handwriting, or just a girl who was rushing to get it done before anyone saw. I reread the note, not sure what to think. Would this person be angry? Did they want to beat me, like Jeb? I suddenly thought about the possibilities. Kicking me to the ground in a public place wouldn't be the exact best, but hey, people got into fights at school, so they must have not had a problem with it. I blocked all negative thoughts and tried to listen to Mr. Johnson's lecture on atomic structures (AN: What do you study in junior year? I'm in sixth grade, and I can't ask my sister, cause she's only a freshmen). I zoned out, not sure what to do. "Miss Ride, are you paying attention? His nasally voice made my not paying attention sound like I was John List or something. "Yes, Mr. Johnson," I replied, still not really paying attention. He realized I wasn't really caring about being reprimanded in front of the whole class, and he let it drop with a puff of air coming from his nose in a I'm-so-mad-but-I'm-a-teacher fashion. Soon ehough, the bell rang and I practically ran out of my last period of the day. I checked my locker, grabbed my stuff, and left. By the time I walked home, It was 2:30.

Three and a half hours. Jeb wasn't home yet, thank god. I grabbed some cans of food from the back of the pantry – corn, peas, and condensed soup. I refilled some water bottles, took an old bowl, a paper plate, and some eating utensils from the kitchen. I dragged them to the treehouse.

I had my plan. I was going to bring a book to the park and read until 6, when my mystery person came. When we were done with talking or whatever we were doing, I would run home in the dark, eat my soup, do homework, and then sleep. I'd have to go to the store for some locks, so Jeb couldn't get in. I felt confident, beating Jeb at his own game. Since I was sure I could win, I went to the linen closet and grabbed the thick blanket near the back. Now, I would be warm, full, and have no beating. I smiled. I grabbed my book, 13 Reasons Why, and strolled to the park. I plopped down on a bench, and started reading. Hannah Baker was a girl who committed suicide 2 weeks ago, and a boy (AN: I forget his name. :( let's call him Josh for now.) received a package of tapes. On the tapes, were 13 reasons why she committed suicide. If you got the tapes, you were a reason. Right now, I was at the scene where Hannah's at the diner, ready to meet a guy who asked her out. She waited, and waited, and finally, he came. He thought they were joking, but Hannah didn't know that. Suddenly, a hand tapped me on the shoulder, and I tensed immediately.

"Hello?" I said, not ready to relax my muscles. I stood up and turned around, cautious for whoever it could be.

"Hi," he replied. I looked at his face. It seemed familiar. He had dark, black hair (he looked like the dude on the cover of my copy of Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports – Pic on my profile), and eyes that looked black. They seemed to pull me in, inviting me to tell them all my secrets. Strong build, but not like a steroid-fan. He was tan, and that only seemed more amazing. He noticed me checking him out, and smirked.

"Who are you?" I asked. Maybe his name would appear in my mind, and I would know where I saw him.

"I'm Nick, but my friends call me Fang," he said, his voice smiling a bit.

"Okay. So, Nick, why did you bring me here on this fine Tuesday evening?"

"Why not?" he smiled, and I returned the gesture, but then cringed slightly when the bruises on my face hurt. He brought his hand to my face, and touched the bruises lightly. "How did you get these?"

I was shocked by the fact that he'd just noticed them. "Oh. I got in a fight with some guy," I said, trying to keep the lie seemingly real. He raised his eyebrow slightly, knowing I was lying.

"Sure yo-" He was cut off by some guy calling "Fang! Where are you, dammit? That's nice, leave the blind guy in a park he's never been in before. Yep, that's cool, buddy. Way to go!" Nick/Fang snickered.

"I'll be right back," he said, and jogged in the direction that the guy was calling. I looked at the guy, and realized I didn't know him. I wasn't surprised. Nick seemed to be the one to have lots of friends, he probably knew this guy from an amazing trip to Canada, where he saved baby moose from eating plastic. This guy, Nick's friend, was pale, pretty tall, but not as tall as Nick. His hair was a pale blonde, like it had been bleached from the sun. It was slightly shaggy, but didn't look too horrendous. They were talking about something I couldn't hear. I sat back down, and pulled out my book. Back to Hannah, I thought. This guy had better things to do than talk to me. A few minutes later, Nick strode back, his friend in tow.

"Hi," I said to them both. Nick's friend was looking at me, but something made me feel like he was looking right through me. I must have looked confused, because Nick supplied me with an answer. "Iggy's blind," he said, looking down slightly at his friend. "Oh, okay," I said, sitting back down. Fang sat on my left, and Iggy sat to my right, cocking his head to Fang, as if they were talking silently. Fang broke out of the conversation, giving Iggy a slight glare, then smiled at me.

"Do you want to come to my house? My friends were going to play a game of baseball in my yard," Fang looked straight at me, giving me a pleasant look.

I glanced at my watch. "I have to get home in an hour, but otherwise, sure," I replied.

We walked out of the park, Fang sometimes taking Iggy's shoulder and tilting him in the direction that we were turning.


	4. Chapter 4

Fang's fingertips brushed against mine, and he gently grasped my left hand. I smiled a little, careful to not disturb the bruises. He noticed what I was doing and quietly asked, "Max, what really happened?"

I knew he was going to ask this, but it still shocked me as the memories of last night flooded back (AN: Sounds like she's pulling a walk of shame. Last night's memories :D) to me. I covered the sudden burst of emotion and he glanced back at me, coming to know that I stopped walking. "Are you okay?" He asked another question, to which I nodded in reply, the gentle skin on my neck tightening as it was trying to heal.

He gave me a look that said, "I know your lying, but I'm not going to ask," but let his thumb make circles on the back of my hand. He gently titled Iggy's shoulder to the right, letting him now that we were turning the corner down Castle Street. As the rows of tiny houses went down, I couldn't help but smile slightly.

He saw my tiny grin and smiled.

It suddenly dawned on me. Why was I trusting him so much?

**Fang's Point of View -**

(2 am, the day before, in his bedroom)

I'd just finished the last of my history essay, when I kept thinking of that girl. Her name was Max, but nobody knew what it was short for. I couldn't get her off my mind. Would she like a walk in the park? Does she like diners or restaurants? Would she like movies? Romance or action? I'd never knew until I tried. I was getting tired, but I knew what had to be done. I pulled out a piece of loose-leaf paper, quickly scrawled a note, shoved it into my bag, and fell asleep.

When I woke up, I was immediately nervous to what Max would say to my note. It couldn't be too bad, all it said was to meet me at the park at 6 o'clock. I pulled on a black t-shirt, and then a grey button-down over that, leaving the buttons un-done and rolling the sleeves to my elbows. Choosing bottoms wasn't a problem. Dark blue jeans, with grey and white sneakers. As I was lacing them up, my youngest sister Angel bounced down the stairs, happy and content as a rainbow (rainbow? What? I must be reading her too many fairytale stories before bed.). "Fang!" she giggled as I swooped her into my arms and squeezed her to me. I loved her with my entire heart, she had me wrapped around her finger.

"What?" I said, putting her down.

"You have to get ready!" I smiled. At six, she said the cutest, but most obvious things. I pouted slightly, just to see her giggle.

"But I don't want to! I want to do..this!" I ran towards her and tickled her sides, until she told me to stop with a happy "I can't breathe!"

I knelt down to her, kissed her blonde curls, and said "Is your sister ready?"

She giggled as I ruffled her hair and straightened her shirt. "No, she's in the bathroom with her purple bag." I sighed. Her purple bag was her makeup bag, which meant she would be in there for an hour before she decided she looked presentable. Angel ran into the kitchen to get some cereal for breakfast. I walked over to the bathroom and knocked on the door. "Nudge, sweetie, we're going to be late," I said quietly through the door. I could hear her puff of anger as she dumped all of her makeup back into her bag. She opened the door and glared, giving me a look that said "I'm going to eat you if you don't shut up right now," Jesus, I thought to myself. Someone's in a bad mood. I rolled my eyes and said "hurry up, short stuff," and walked down the stairs.

I'm really sorry for being lazy about not posting. The day before NYE, I had a last-minute sleepover with my best friend. On New Years Eve, I was just really tired, and I couldn't think what to write. Then today (New Years Day), I got really sick from having grappa, then I had food poisioning from week-old chili (bahahaha. It tasted good the first time I had it. I kinda didn't like it the second time it came back, or the third, or forth, or fifth.) So here it comes, the shortest chapter yet! I know what I want now for upcoming chapters. I'll figure out how to PM you if you want a spoiler, just ask me in a review :D


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